


The Scandal

by Autumn_Llleaves



Category: Lady Susan - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 12:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: Lady Susan’s initial plan of marrying Reginald De Courcy has succeeded. But not for long. A year after her mother's wedding, Lady Frederica Martin receives shocking news, which, ironically, helps her with the tragicomedy of her own married life.





	The Scandal

**Author's Note:**

> Based partly on the book, partly on the movie.
> 
> Of course, I am very glad that at least Frederica's story got a happy conclusion and that she ended up with Reginald, and I definitely don't ship her with Sir James consistently. But he is (at least in the movie) one of Austen's characters who are ridiculous without being deliberately malicious (such as Mr. Rushworth in "Mansfield Park"), so I think that if the worst had happened, it might have just barely worked out.

_Dear Frederica, there has been a truly catastrophic uproar, and I’d rather you heard the first of it from me. It’s very painful, and I do wish you could have been spared, but even if I keep silent, the local gossips close to your estate definitely will not. No one’s good health is in danger, but – prepare yourself. Mr. Mainwaring, who is known to you and who (we thought) has merely outstretched his visit at the De Courcys’, has publicly revealed the utterly sensitive information about the truth of the matter. It turned out (oh, I feel sickened to write of it still) he was having a long-time affair with your mother. Even worse, it had started before her marriage to Reginald. The only reason he revealed it was because she decided to cast him away for yet another lover._

_It is absolutely horrible. Of course Reginald is getting a speedy divorce and I understand she no longer resides under his roof, and my parents are so broken by the scandal I don’t know if they’ll ever be the same again, but it must be ten times as hard for you, my poor, poor dear niece! I feel rather horrid myself for pouring it all at you now. You may be sure of one thing, Frederica: I know you have no part in your mother’s guilt, quite the opposite. Charles and I will stand by you if anyone dares to slander you._

_I will try to come and visit you as soon as Mother, Father and Reginald can spare me. Give my regards to Sir James and kiss for me little Gerald, who I hope is thriving and as cheerful as ever. Please, please forgive me for the tone and phrasing of this letter. Be assured the anger is not directed at you._

_Yours etc.  
Catherine Vernon._

Frederica crumpled the letter in her fist, fighting back tears. A divorce! A public outcry! Oh, Reginald – Reginald… She had hoped, too. She hoped that her mother, for once, truly loved him. How could anyone not love him, after all? Frederica consoled herself with the guess that she, shy and awkward as she was, would never have made Reginald happy, while her beautiful, witty, brilliant mother would bring him the joy he deserved.

Instead, she brought him only shame and humiliation. Oh, if only Frederica could have warned Reginald somehow beforehand… but how, in fact? He wasn’t her close relation to be addressed on such delicate matters. And he wouldn’t have believed her anyway. Except for Catherine Vernon and the elder De Courcys, everyone had been fully taken in by her mother.

Before long, Frederica was sobbing uncontrollably, the paper thrown on the table.

She heard footsteps in the hall.

“Rica, my dear, I have been – oh, what’s the matter? Are you ill?”

James’s arms went around her, and she hid her face on his shoulder, shaking with weeping.

“Please, Rica, what’s wrong?” he said as she slowly calmed down, and took her face in his hands. “Would you like a present? Say, some sweetmeat? A couple of honey biscuits will cheer you up…” he stopped. Even he could see the matter was beyond sweetmeats.

“Read it, it’s from Catherine Vernon,” she handed him the letter, trying to straighten the paper a bit. “It will become common knowledge soon, so I don’t mind.”

As he read, his brows rose higher, until finally he asked, incredulous:

“So your mother had an affair with Mr. Mainwaring?”

Frederica nodded weakly.

“But why, then, did she marry Reginald De Courcy?”

“Why indeed,” she murmured under her breath, and felt fresh tears pooling in her eyes at the thought of Reginald.

James blinked, trying to work it out. The idea of infidelity was something he couldn’t grasp, try as he might. At balls and outings, he was always beaming whenever any young man tried to flirt with his wife as he took it for sincere platonic admiration. If Frederica had had her mother’s morals, she could have taken ten lovers already and her husband would have remained perfectly clueless. 

She wasn’t like her mother, though. The only man to affect her heart had been Reginald, and as a stepfather he was out of her reach, even had she been unmarried. Furthermore, deceiving a kindly and simple-minded creature like James would have been particularly low.

…Oh, but how could Reginald ever be tricked by her mother?..

“I’m very, very sorry, Rica,” said James, stroking her hair. “It… er… must be so very painful.”

He was clearly struggling to find suitable words, but for once it wasn’t his fault. In his place, Frederica wouldn’t have known what to say either.

“I knew she was like this,” she whispered, staring at the letter. “But… oh, how could I tell anyone? About my own mother, too! And now she is disgraced and Reginald De Courcy is the laughing-stock of society.”

“But you are not disgraced, are you?” he anxiously reread the letter to make sure. “Well, if anyone says you’re disgraced, _I_ will say it’s not so!”

“And if they still say it?” she smiled through tears. As Lady Susan’s daughter, she would undoubtedly be subject to rumors, and James wasn’t the sort of man who could stop the spread of gossip with one word, but his concern was touching.

He thought for a moment, and then his eyes lit up:

“If they still say it, I will _never_ invite them here! Not even for hunting!”

Frederica sighed as she looked at Catherine’s letter again. Poor Catherine, too! She had also seen through Lady Susan and had been powerless to help. Reginald didn’t listen to her. It was inconceivable that even such a clever and accomplished man could be blinded like that, but here it was.

“Rica, you are so saddened. You must care for Reginald De Courcy very much.”

She stared at him in shock. James? How did he ever notice?

“I care for him too, he’s a very good friend.”

Oh, of course. Her universally kind husband was thinking of nothing but friendship.

“Maybe we could invite him here to take his mind off things?” James suggested.

“No!” she cried. “I mean – it’s more proper for him to stay in his own home in such a situation. And he must be so broken and angry, it will unnerve little Gerald if he comes here.”

“Oh, yes, I see. As you like, my dear.”

He rang for tea and honey biscuits, and Frederica went to the nursery to feed Gerald. She had agreed to the name her husband had chosen, before the baby was even born, because she saw it also as a shortened anagram for Reginald. Now the pain has subsided a little, but back then Frederica could hardly suffer the knowledge that the one she truly loved was lost forever to her own mother.

Her son was the greatest delight of her life. He had her curly hair and James’s wide sunny smile, and he was such an active and cheerful baby. Many of Frederica’s acquaintances were worried about their children who were weak and pale and sleepy, but she was thankfully spared that. Gerald cooed affectionately as she rocked him in her arms and grasped at her fingers with his little hands. She hummed a lullaby – she had learned it at the Vernons', her mother had never sung to her.

"I have an idea," James announced, nibbling on a biscuit as he walked into the nursery. "Why don't  _we_ go away for a while, to cheer you up? A cousin of mine has a lovely place in Scotland. He says that mountain air is very good. And there are amazing hunting grounds."

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I've never traveled away from England, you know. And the air will be very nice for Gerald."

James came over to her and smiled at his son, who beamed back.

"What a dear boy he is! I wonder how you managed to grow him inside of you for so many months, and all by yourself. But he looks like me, doesn't he? How very peculiar. You gave birth to him, and he looks like me."

Marital duties and childbirth were among the long list of things that still mystified her husband. Frederica recalled she had been surprised he had even known what to do on the wedding night; but while she expected to him to be, as usual, merry, bumbling and insensitive, he turned out to be rather too gentle and apologetic. It turned out that, for some reason, James had come to the idea that marriage bed meant excruciating torture for the woman every time, and he was always panically afraid he'd hurt his "Rica". When one evening, feeling excited, she called him to bed herself, he was practically dumbstruck. As for childbearing, Frederica was certain James didn't even suspect he had any part in conception: he looked positive that pregnancy was only a woman's doing.

* * *

_Dear Frederica,_

_I am sure you know how I am brutally maligned and how my name is blackened at every corner. I beg of you to remember your daughterly duty for once and let me reside with you and your husband until this scandal subsides. You owe me that much at least after how I've shielded you from the cruelty of this world and worked tirelessly for your education._

_Your loving mother,_

_Susan Vernon (they forced me to take back my previous name – the audacity!)._

_P.S. It's the fourth letter I am sending you. Either there have been serious disruptions among the post coaches, or you are deliberately ignoring me. I start to think that I have indulged you too much._

"Why don't I get any reply to my letters?" Susan snapped at the postman. "Is it because you fail to deliver them?"

"Where are you writing, ma'am?"

"To Walingrove, Sir James Martin's estate."

"Oh, but perhaps it's because Sir and Lady Martin have gone to Scotland. I've heard of it from my friends who live close to their place."

"To Scotland?" Susan reddened with fury. "Her own mother is in such a predicament and she goes to Scotland? What business do they even have there? They are already married, are they not? I knew Frederica was hopelessly spoiled! I've been too soft on her, the Vernons allowed her any possible antics, and of course with someone like Sir James she always gets her own way."

* * *

"Lady Susan Vernon  _–_ to Mr. Humphrey Rogerton," Frederica read in the newspaper. "Who is that and how comes he wasn't afraid of the scandal?"

Lady Mildred Martin, the wife of James's cousin, looked at the announcement too:

"Oh, I think I've heard of him. He's a widower twice over – his first wife’s father had magnificent plantations in America and his second wife was a German baroness. Both were older than himself, he’s still no more than forty and heard to be dashingly handsome. He’s also fabulously rich and without a care in the world.”

Frederica chuckled bitterly. It sounded like her mother had met her match for once.

_But she’s impoverished now, with no titles or plantations to offer. What if he’s really fallen in love with her? And what if it actually touches her own heart?_

“What news?” James, just back from hunting, waved to them from his horse. Frederica hurried to meet him:

“My mother’s got married,” she said, giving him the newspaper. For once, James didn’t grin widely. He only smiled, looking worriedly at her:

“I’ve had a letter from Churchhill – it’s not a church and a hill, Mildred, it’s a name of a place – just before I went to the hunt. I suppose it's also about that. Well, I hope they’ll be happy, her and Mr. Rogerton – odd, never heard of the man. Oh, Rica, darling, are you all right? I thought you are a bit pale.”

“I was just a little surprised, that’s all,” Frederica smiled. “It’s a biting wind out here, dear, you’d better go and change your clothes. You’re sweating, you’ll get a cold.”

“Of course. I’ll join you in about half an hour, ladies,” he spurred on his horse in the direction of the house.

“He has changed since your marriage,” Mildred observed. “You’re so good to him and for him, Frederica.”

“Oh,” Frederica blushed. She still wasn’t used to anyone paying her compliments. Mostly, she believed, people did it because she was now a rich and highly respected lady – but Mildred, being just as rich and even higher-born, didn’t need to ingratiate with her.

* * *

"Four letters, and all of them pretty much the same: asking to stay with us. But all of them were written before her marriage, so I don't think it's relevant now," Frederica threw the letters on the table and sighed. There was no letter from her mother with news of her wedding, let alone any invitation.

"I know she's my mother," she whispered, feeling she wanted to cry again. "But sometimes..."

"Of course, Rica, I mean, you would have liked to go to her wedding at least."

" _You_ wouldn't?" she raised an eyebrow. James had indeed changed. Before her marriage, she never knew he could resist an opportunity to go to any sort of festivities.

"Well, she did behave rather badly towards the De Courcys, and they visit and write so often, you understand," he hurried to explain. "I, for once, can't see why she had to have that affair. I mean, I realize she liked Mr. Mainwaring, but well, it's not necessary to have an affair in that case. Why, for instance, Catherine Vernon likes me, but it doesn't mean she has an affair! Or you, Rica, you like Reginald De Courcy, but you're not having an affair with him!"

"No," Frederica smiled and took his hand. "I am not and I'm not going to, James."

His somber philosophical mood didn't last long: he wouldn't have been himself if he hadn't quickly switched back to his cheerful optimistic state:

"But maybe sometime Lady Susan will make amends with you and with the De Courcys, and we'll invite her here, won't we? I think she'll be delighted to see little Gerald. And, Rica, don't forget that she did one thing for us: it was her who introduced us to each other and arranged our wedding!"

"Yes, dear," said Frederica. 

"I mean – it was a good thing, wasn't it?" he asked, suddenly anxious. 

"A wonderful thing," she said gently.

"You are always so quick-witted and you read poetry and play the piano and you are so accomplished, and I only know about Walingrove and hunting. I feel so stupid compared to you."

"James, don't be ridiculous, besides, you have a kind heart," said Frederica. "I know, believe me, enough to value it above everything else."

He wasn't Reginald and wasn't even remotely like him, but what she said wasn't a lie. She felt a surge of tenderness as he held her close and stroked her hair, and thought that – under these circumstances – marriage with him was the best that could happen to her.

* * *

_Dear Mama and Papa,_

_You really must come and visit the Martins. Frederica is thankfully recovered after that awful ordeal about her mother, little Gerald is learning his first words, and I have some suspicions that there is a new addition to the family on the way. But who really astonished us was Sir James. On the very first day of my visit, he told me in a loud theatrical whisper that "there are Ten Commandments and not Twelve at all!" and proceeded to enumerate them. Correctly, too. Moreover, now he can actually play simple duets on the piano with his wife. He says that in fact it's not much harder than hunting. As you pretty much can guess, it's Frederica's doing – he told us that he asked her to educate him a bit. Even without the number of the Commandments and the piano, he clearly seems much less foolish than before. Frederica's influence has done wonders!_

_As for herself, she's also much better than when she stayed with us before her wedding. She's still shy, but not painfully so, she's not frightened to accept kindness anymore, and she is quite a capable mistress of the estate (you can figure it needs a capable mistress with such a master). Such a pity she didn't marry Reginald, but at least she's not as unhappy as she could have been. (I wouldn't have survived being married ~~to such an oaf~~ against my will to Sir James, let alone changing him in any way!)_

_We're staying at Walingrove till the end of the month, and then we'll be going home. Charles and the kids send their love._

_Your affectionate daughter,_

_Catherine._

 

 

 


End file.
